Page 131 of Echoes of the Raven
He smiled crookedly. “It means little raven.”
Resting back on his chest, I hide my smile. I like it. “Tell me about your espiritu, your shifting magic?”
Aching sorrow seeped into his voice, a hollow echo of the emptiness he feels without his raven skills.
By the end, I was in awe. Before the veil fell, he possessed the ability to shift into all the forms of a formidable raven shifter. Corvus, a regular-sized raven akin to Cuervo. Dreadwing, a colossal bird with talons the size of a house. Scatter, an unkindness of ravens capable of darkening the sky. Chimera, a creature with a blend of raven and fae characteristics. He also confessed to other, darker powers, but chose to end the conversation there, deciding it was too late.
“You will be able to do it all again when we reopen the veil,” I said, stifling a yawn.
“Mayhap you are right, little raven.”
Now, I smile as I look ahead between my horse’s ears. Petting the animal’s neck, I feel optimism sparking in my veins for the first time during this journey.
Everything will be all right.
Two days later, my optimism has taken root. We haven’t run into any trouble. Galen’s espiritu is as Jago called it: Gaspar imbued with strength from San Christopher. Unfortunately, Korben doesn’t seem to share my good cheer, and the closer we get, the more somber his expression becomes.
Overgrown brush blocks the path, a testament to the lack of travelers. Galen uses his magic to clear our way. Korben’s gaze dances around as if he expects trouble to jump from behind each bush. My cousin has picked up on it and is doing the same, hand tight around the hilt of the rapier he took from Enrique.
“We are close,” Korben announces after an hour of silent riding.
We have left the path and entered the forest which, without Galen, would be impassable.
“Yes,” Galen agrees. He cracks his neck and scents the air like a hound. Can he sense the veil? My eyes rove all around, and I see nothing, only massive trees covered in vines and moss. The forest is so thick, it is hard to see past it.
Abruptly, Korben brings his mount to a halt and leaps off the saddle. He walks over to a tree as wide as five men and runs a hand over the bark. He steps lithely over the gnarled roots and rounds the trunk.
“Here,” he announces.
“How are you so sure?” Galen asks.
“Because of this.” He points at something we can’t see on his side of the tree.
We all dismount and go around to find a large gash scarring the trunk.
“I left this here as a marker when I passed through,” Korben explains. “I don’t know what made me do it.” He frowns and looks down at the ground.
“Perhaps your instincts told you something bad was about to happen,” Galen says.
Korben shrugs. “Mayhap.”
They both look at me expectantly.
“Um, all right, how do I do this?” I ask.
Galen frowns at Korben. “How doesshedo this?”
“Yes, Galen. Valeria will do this,” Korben answers in a tired voice.
“Why?”
Korben ignores the question.
The sorcerer thinks for a moment. “Of course, you have no magic. That’s why you can’t shift. That’s why we’re trapped here.”
“Brilliant as always.”
“But how? Why?”
